


Nervous

by shyverrr (akira_marq)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Background Relationships, Fluff, I wrote this instead of studying, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nervous Caps, Nervousness, Rough Losses, Songfic, very mild alcoholism only mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akira_marq/pseuds/shyverrr
Summary: I get a little bit nervous around youGet a little bit stressed out when I think about youGet a little excitedBaby, when I think about youI saw you on a Sunday in a café...Rasmus gets a little bit nervous around Tim.





	Nervous

**Author's Note:**

> title: [Nervous, by Shawn Mendes](https://open.spotify.com/track/5wxurz8J6YlyQRNnGN8zXS?si=rCzRqaDISL29MErhiUpecQ)  
> notes: just a little idea i had in between chapters of SAY(B). no worries, that one's not getting abandoned! it's my baby <3  
> just wanted to do some different ships for a bit

The first time Rasmus sees him is a few Sundays before LEC starts, in a cosy corner cafe where coffee is cheap and League players abound. He recognises the quiet boy from somewhere, maybe promotional material? Rasmus doesn’t remember.

 

But then the pretty boy with soft grey eyes and fluffy brown hair looks his way, and dammit why does Rasmus fall in love so fast? His hands are quivering so excitedly that when he picks up his drink he nearly spills his coffee on himself, and blushes red when the boy softly giggles, sitting all alone in that corner booth. Rasmus wants so desperately to sit down next to whomever it is, start up a conversation even if all he can do is stammer out silly things with how jittery he feels, to learn more about this beauty before him until perhaps a complete stranger becomes a sweetheart. But before he can act-

 

“Rasmus? Hey, Rasmus, we’re going now, come on!” Luka grabs his hand and drags him out the door. “Man, what happened to you?” teases Luka, but Rasmus’s mind is still fixated on the boy from the cafe, and he doesn’t even indicate that he heard Luka at all.

 

\---

 

“Raaaaaasmusssssss,” says Mihael, “when did you meet Nemmy?”

 

“What?” Rasmus takes his headphones off to hear Mihael better over the little crashing sounds of soloQ.

“When did you meet Nemmy?” When there’s no visible understanding on Rasmus’s face, Mihael continues, “Nemesis?” Still nothing. “The new midlaner for Fnatic?”

Rasmus shakes his head.

“You’re hopeless, man,” Mihael grumbles, pulling out his phone.

 

Only once Mihael shows him pictures of Nemesis does Rasmus get it, and _wow_ does Nemesis look good, that boy from the coffee-shop, so pretty and petite and adorable, huggable, kissable, lovable…

“Holy shit.” Mihael’s smirking, laughing, head thrown back as he basically cackles. “You think he’s pretty?”

“WHAT?!”

“You just said it.”

“No! No I didn’t!” protests Rasmus, blushing red once more and sputtering indignantly. “Definitely did NOT say that!”

“Yeah you diiiiiid,” teases Mihael.

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did _not!”_

“Anyway,” Mihael continues, “he was asking about you,” and Rasmus’s heart stops.

 

“W-what?” stutters Rasmus, suddenly very interested in what Mihael has to say, looking up at the support with astonished, eager eyes.

“Yeah,” responds his support, then patting Rasmus’s head and walking away.

“Wait, what did he say?” But the support just keeps walking, and Rasmus is in a soloQ game that he’s mere minutes away from winning with how fed his Pyke mid is.

 

Minutes are kind of a long time, though…

 

Rasmus hits B, AFKs his game and chases Miky down through the house, begging Mihael to tell him what Nemesis said. Mihael teases him with screenshots of texts that Rasmus isn’t close enough to clearly make out, so he hunts Mihael down from room to room, darting after the support from his own room to Luka’s to Mihael’s where Marcin sits calmly playing soloQ, briefly disrupted by the mid-laner’s antics but not enough that Marcin forgets to wrap an arm around Mihael’s waist and press a kiss to his cheek as he always does whenever he sees either Mihael or Luka. Then they’re off again, Mihael darting past Rasmus to run back to the gaming room.

 

Finally, Rasmus catches up to Mihael when the Slovene tries to slip by the couch, only to be tripped up by Luka’s outstretched foot.

“Why, hello there,” says Luka flirtatiously when Mihael practically falls on top of him.

“Well, hello,” teases Mihael in return, and Rasmus makes a face, stomping his feet petulantly while they give each other eskimo kisses.

“Mihaeeeeeeeeeel,” he whines, “you gotta tell meeee!”

 

“What’s going on?” asks Luka, and Mihael explains the situation with Nemesis - Tim Lipovšek, as his name turns out to be, and having such a sweet name to such a sweet face is honestly making Rasmus’s heart melt a little inside. “Awww, our little mid-laner found another little mid-laner! How cute.” Luka pinches his cheek and Rasmus pouts.

 

“Very cute,” agrees Mihael. Clearly, Rasmus won’t be getting anything out of the support, at least not today, so he sticks his tongue out at Mihael and stalks back to his chair for another game of League.

“Shut up.”

 

“Oh, and Rasmus?” calls Mihael once the mid-laner has loaded into another queue.

“What.”

“He said he thought you were cute, wanted to know if you were into guys, then asked me for your number.”

Rasmus drops everything, stunned by the news, and forgets to accept his popped queue, instead getting kicked to the waiting screen again while his League client makes noises as though disappointed in him. “He WHAT?!”

“I told him to just ask you at LEC or something,” says the support nonchalantly, dropping the bomb of a potentially-reciprocated crush like it means nothing at all.

 

Rasmus is so flustered and pink-faced and stumbling, stuttering, adorably overwhelmed that, when he finally does make it into another game, he barely can CS until halfway through laning phase.

 

\---

 

True to Mihael’s word, Tim manages to find Rasmus at LEC that weekend, though to what extent his teammates are involved, Rasmus isn’t sure. Probably very involved.

 

He’s just wandering backstage, checking out the new graphics that show up basically everywhere, when there’s a gentle voice calling out from down the hallway.

“Rasmus?”

Rasmus’s head snaps towards the voice instantaneously and honestly, he thinks it’s a little unbalanced that even Tim’s voice is sweet; it’s making him a little nervous because Tim is so much of everything he adores and, well, Rasmus is admittedly a little bit of a disaster gay. Not, like, Luka levels of disaster gay, but he’s definitely up there.

“Hey!” chirps Tim, “Mihael told me you would be somewhere around here.”

“O-oh,” Rasmus stutters, cursing himself internally, “y-yeah, I walk around a lot before a match.” He laughs awkwardly, and his hands fidget with the seams of his sweatpants.

“That’s pretty cool. Can I join you?”

“Of course!” Okay, maybe that was a little overeager. “I-I mean if you want to.” Again he laughs awkwardly, and it seems like that’s rapidly becoming a facet of his interactions with Tim.

 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Nemesis. Mid-laner for Fnatic.”

“Y-yeah, I know.”

Hmm. That’s not quite what he wanted to say.

“I mean, Miky already told me.” He chuckles and a tiny wheeze slips out, but Tim giggles in response, so Rasmus supposes that he’s good for now.

 

Rasmus is stressed out in the best possible way as he walks through the back halls of LEC, though Tim at his side is confident, smiley, radiating absolute purity and sunshine.

“I think I saw you at the cafe, right? I remember you,” says Tim, and if Rasmus wasn’t blushing before he definitely is now. How can the other mid-laner so casually make him turn pink?

“Yeah! Sunday, right?”

“Mmhmm.” They turn a corner into a new hall, also decorated with the characteristic markings of the LEC, this one with bright lightning-bolt patterns. “You almost spilt coffee on yourself, right?”

Rasmus puts his hands to his face, now utterly red with embarrassment. “Oh no, you saw that?”

 

This is it, his life is over, yeah his crush noticed him but who wants to be noticed for nearly making a mess? Rasmus can’t take it, he’s so fucking nervous, he’s gonna go hide in the G2 prep room and never come out, this is so embarrassing, so awful, what a horrible turn of events-

 

Tim laughs ever so lightly. “Yeah. It was kind of cute if I’m being honest.”

 

WHAT???

 

“Oh, let’s go down this hallway! I like the fire patterns, those are the best.”

Anxiously, heart thudding in his ears, chest pounding at what feels like way too many beats per minute, Rasmus lets Tim’s gentle hold on his sleeve lead him down the new hallway, and the longer he walks with the other cute mid-laner, the calmer Rasmus becomes, much to his relief. By no means is he actually calm at all, still a little jumpy and jittery and far too prone to squeaking when surprised by Luka coming up behind him, but Tim giggles the sweetest sound Rasmus has ever heard and doesn’t judge him in the least, which lets Rasmus soothe himself a bit.

It seems like Tim does everything right. As soon as Rasmus gets himself under control, they start talking together about everything from their favourite cakes to which of their teammates is most annoying to the exceedingly attention-getting topic of sexual orientation. It turns out that Tim is bi (and Rasmus has a chance, an actual chance of getting to be so much more than friends!) and when Rasmus shares that he’s gay, they start chattering on about what it’s like in professional League of Legends.

 

“Have you ever had a crush on a teammate?” asks Tim, and the answer is easy for Rasmus.

“Only Mads,” he says, and Tim gawks at him. “I feel like it’s kind of hard to like your teammates like that because they feel like family, not like, lovers, or something,” he says, only breaking into awkward giggles once.

“Yeah? That’s true. On MAD Lions I was dating Selfmade for a little, but he’s too toxic for me,” jokes Tim. “How about a crush on someone else in the LEC, have you ever had that?”

Oof. Tim’s asking the hard questions, now. “Um, uh, yeah, actually… Nevermind. Yeah, I’ve definitely had crushes on, uh, other players.”

Sweetly Tim laughs again. “Yeah, I haven’t even played yet and I already like someone.”

Fuck, does Rasmus have competition? He really hopes not; the stress would probably kill him at that point. “O-oh? Who’s the lucky guy?”

 

Tim laughs once more, and if everything else about the adorable, scrawny mid-laner next to him didn’t melt Rasmus’s heart into a puddle of fluttery, happy goo, that sound alone could make him coo.

 

“Hey, that’s a secret,” teases Tim, but before Rasmus even has time to feel sad, his companion jumps to the next topic. “Oh, I think I have to head back to the prep room soon. We’re up first today.”

“Okay. Um, uh, I c-can walk you back if you like?”

Tim smiles so prettily, saying, “Yes, I’d love that! It’s this way.”

 

Finally, they come to a slightly sad stop in front of FNC’s door, and Tim is about to head inside, when, “Oh,” he says, “we should trade numbers before we have to go on-stage!”

“Yeah!” blurts Rasmus, frantically nodding. Tim moves closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Rasmus, craning his head nerve-wrackingly close to Rasmus’s own, and he pulls out his phone as Tim does the same and unlocks it with shaking hands, then hands it to Tim to type his number in. Tim gives Rasmus his own phone to enter the contact info, but-

 

FUCK. Rasmus doesn’t remember his damn number! This is so embarrassing.

 

Instead of panicking like Rasmus, though, Tim is so smart - he just sends himself a quick text and adds the unknown number under 🖤rasmus🖤, putting himself in Rasmus’s phone as Tim💛.

 

It’s so cute, isn’t it? Rasmus is dying a little bit from being so overloaded with feels.

 

“Text you later,” says Tim, nudging Rasmus’s side affectionately before going into the room.

“Yeah, talk to you then,” responds Rasmus, walking away with a bounce in his step and an unnatural lightness to his heart.

 

Later on, he learns the importance of having a passcode on his phone. Mihael snatches it up, having heard from Luka that Rasmus and Tim were walking together backstage, and immediately heads to his contacts before Rasmus has a chance to stop him.

“OH MY GOD HE HAS A HEART NEXT TO HIS NAME IN RASMUS’S PHONE!” screams Mihael in pure fangirl mode, so happy for his mid-lane friends. As soon as they hear, everyone else from G2 jumps in on teasing Rasmus relentlessly, and none of them shut up until Grabbz yells at them to-

 

“Pay some fucking attention during draft preparations, dammit!”

 

\---

 

True to his word, Tim texts first, the day after their nerve-wracking first two games - or first three, in the case of Tim, depending on how one views the remake.

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_hey rasmus!_  


 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Hi Tim! How are you?_  


 

Really? He couldn’t have picked something more interesting to say? Ugh, Rasmus is just falling apart at the seams for this boy; he better watch out before he makes a fool of himself or worse. Should he send something else? Maybe… But wouldn’t that seem too clingy? The last thing Rasmus wants to do is annoy Tim with his fretting. But maybe he should say something different? Wait wait wait Tim is typing!

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_good ^_^ kind of sad to lose but its ok_  


 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Yeah I’m so sorry you had such a rough start_  
_I’m sure you’ll do great next week tho!_  


 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_haha yeah i really hope so :P_  
_actually_  
_i was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime?_  
_celebrate your 2-0, get my mind off my 0-2?_

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Yeah that would be really great! I’d love to get coffee with you!_  


 

That sounded really overeager, didn’t it… Rasmus is going to have to work on not sounding so excited all the time, since it would probably get excessive after a while, so quietly he resolves to get a grip and take a deep breath. In fact, Tim takes several minutes to respond, all of which Rasmus spends bouncing his legs in nervousness.

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_actually i dont think i can make it this week at all_  
_youngbuck just said he wants us all to do stuff together instead of separate_  
_sorry…_

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Oh! That’s okay too! Whenever you feel like it_  
_Grabbz doesn’t mind if we go places when we want, so I’m free pretty much whenever you want_  


 

About half an hour later, Tim finally replies with a little smile and a cheery agreement. They continue to text each other about events of the day, from Rasmus’s Martin turning off Marcin’s TV because of anime to Tim’s Martin grumbling at Hyli for making rather clever puns with Bwipo. That same characteristic of their texts, making small-talk about their teammates and themselves, persists throughout the week. It seems like they manage to touch base with everything, Rasmus learning Tim’s favourite season and song and colour and animal and sharing the same information with Tim, Rasmus worrying all the while that he’s talking a little too much around Tim, and by that Thursday they’ve already arranged a meeting-place in LEC to wander the halls together again.

 

Fnatic is up first once more, so their minutes together are rather limited, and all too soon Rasmus is wishing Tim good luck, then watching him get forced into playing Galio again. Poor kid. He’s such a mid-lane talent and all he gets to play is tanks and “safe” champs. Rasmus is pretty damn lucky in that aspect - he’s gotten to play everything from Jayce to Aatrox and it honestly feels like his team would do anything within reason for him. The game is over sooner than Rasmus would like, and as G2 begin to get ready for going onstage, Rasmus makes eye contact with Tim.

 

He’s clustered in a group with the rest of Fnatic, listening to Youngbuck chide them and looking at the ground like he wants to be anywhere but there. Rasmus waves at him. Weakly, Tim waves back with a little smile on his face, and Rasmus pulls his phone from his pocket, waving it in the air as well and pointing to it. _Wanna talk?_ he mouths, and Tim takes his phone out as well, typing quickly.

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_hey :) good luck out there!_

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Thanks!_  
_You look kinda sad, is everything ok?_

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_i mean_  
_we keep losing but other than that im ok_  
_youngbuck just doesnt trust me yet_  
_:(_

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_That’s a loss for him, I guess_  
_I watched some of your mad lions games_  
_You’re actually so insane!_

 

Rasmus’s gaze flickers over to Tim’s face, eagerly awaiting his reaction to the compliment, hoping against hope that it’s a positive one, and lo and behold Tim’s sombre expression lightens up with a ray of a smile. Then a sound like a quiet shout echoes across the LEC backstage, and Tim jumps, putting his phone away.

 

Rasmus wins. Unsurprisingly, he supposes; there are whispers among the team of aiming for a perfect Split, though the whispers are rather quiet - perfection is sometimes worse than failure - and Grabbz is always sure to reiterate that they’re not there to be flawless, they’re on-stage to correct their flaws.

 

A text comes through, congratulating Rasmus and then forewarning him that Tim’s going to be grinding soloQ until he falls asleep just to get his mind off of everything, so please don’t text, he doesn’t want to miss anything Rasmus says. Rasmus agrees, says goodnight, and scurries off to nag Martin about watching anime with him and the threesome so that Rasmus isn’t fourth-wheeling.

 

\---

 

The next week is a completely different story.

 

It’s a win for Fnatic at last, and Rasmus is so happy to see how Tim absolutely kills it with Syndra, so hyped and excited and on the edge of his seat at every turn of the game that his entire team makes continual jabs at him and Tim, for being “so cute” and “reminds me of us when we were younger, right, _kochanie?_ ”

Luka replies to the latter statement with a jab at Marcin’s age and teasing hands ruffling Mihael’s hair. Of course, after that, they tiptoe around the tender issue of Chres’s struggles and Martin’s worries to get back to teasing Rasmus and Tim.

 

“I mean, you’re practically dating, no?” asks Marcin, and even though Rasmus quickly rebuffs that idea, Mihael and Luka latch onto it with a fury. They’re all standing in queue for their upcoming game, keyboards and mice and headsets neatly arranged on a nice table while they wait around, chatting, Rasmus more towards the junction between the halls and the backstage area while Luka leans against the table, bracketed on either side by Marcin and Mihael, and Martin is further-off, spending a little bit of time with his sweetheart.

Then, Tim comes walking back from his first LEC win alongside his teammates, and the actions he takes certainly don’t help Rasmus deny the teasing.

 

“Rasmus!” he chirps as soon as he sees his fellow mid-laner. Rasmus’s heart virtually melts at just how excited Tim looks, a soft smile on his face and an expression that, for once in the past few weeks, doesn’t look pinched with stress and letdown.

As Rasmus watches and waves happily, Tim shoves his peripherals into Broxah’s hands and makes a dash for him. Rasmus coughs as Tim throws himself at Rasmus, wrapping up the smaller boy in a tight hug, and Rasmus’s hands nervously flail for a half-second before settling lightly on Tim’s upper back.

 

“I did it!” he exclaims, and Rasmus begins to rock them from side to side in a vain attempt to get Tim’s overwhelming joy under control. “I did it, I won!”

“Yeah, you did!” cheers Rasmus. “Man, you totally proved all the haters wrong, right? Like, that E to start the CC-chain so Zac could get the R was _insane!_ ”

“Oh,” Tim giggles, “you noticed that? I didn’t think anyone noticed!” They’ve pulled away slightly by now, Tim cupping Rasmus’s pointy elbows in his hands and Rasmus resting shaky palms on Tim’s upper arms.

“How could I _not_ notice, though?” says Rasmus, hyped up on his crush’s excitement. “That was such a good play!”

 

“Yes!” says Tim through a smile, and with an air of thanks. “Oh, wow, losing streak is over,” he sighs, hugging Rasmus again. This time, Rasmus is more mentally prepared and lets his hands slide more comfortably around Tim’s waist while Tim slings both arms around his neck, and they sway side to side for a few seconds longer before Broxah chimes in that it’s time to go.

 

“Talk to you later, Tim,” says Rasmus, cautiously loosening his hold and immediately missing Tim’s warmth.

“Yeah, later, Rasmus!” Tim replies, still so cheery, and he waves goodbye enthusiastically with one hand while he holds his keyboard and mouse in the other, balancing his headset precariously as he hurries back to the FNC room of the LEC halls.

Rasmus waves back just as sweetly, smiling wide and giggling, wheezing softly, until Tim is out of sight.

 

“So, still not your boyfriend, huh?” mumble twin voices over both of his shoulders, right into his ears, so unexpected that Rasmus jumps a fair height into the air.

“No!” protests Rasmus, quickly turning to face Luka and Mihael, but by how warm he can feel his cheeks are, he’s not sure it’s a convincing answer.

 

\---

 

Week 5 comes around and Rasmus has beaten everyone once, to the cheers and joy of G2 fans who proclaim with pride an undefeated first half. Of course, the dreams of an undefeated Split are quickly shot down the next day, but Rasmus still can’t find it in him to feel morose over their loss. By the end of the night and the week, there’s not a member of G2 whose heart hurts over it. Martin is out again, off somewhere with Chres, celebrating Rogue’s first win of the split, while Luka and Marcin and Mihael dart into the support’s room to watch an anime and cuddle up to their ADC.

 

Seeing as all his friends are off with their lovers, Rasmus takes the time to try and connect with the one he loves.

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Ahh, I watched your games. Really sad loss._  
_Do you want to talk about it? You looked pretty sad on the broadcast._  
_Or we could just duo if that’s what you want?_  
_Or neither! That’s cool too! I’m just here if you need anything!_

 

He must sound so annoying. Dammit! But there’s no way to take it back now, so Rasmus just opens up his client and starts to soloQ to pass the time. Hopefully his teammates won’t start going at it, but even if they do, Mihael’s room is far enough away that Rasmus can still go to bed whenever he wants and not have to hear them.

 

So Rasmus plays through a few games on a hidden account, just unwinding to end his day. If he stays up later than he usually does, in the hopes of receiving a reply from Tim, it’s not like Grabbz or one of his teammates notices.

 

In the end, though, it’s 1 in the morning, it’s been a long day, and Rasmus is honestly half-asleep, so he sends a quick _Goodnight!_ before heading off to bed.

 

Though Rasmus isn’t awake to realise it, a reply comes in at 4:37 am.

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_oh lol just saw that_  
_you’re kinda right, haha_  
_yesterday was… not the best_  
_but i hope you slept well!!!_  
_actually you’re probably still sleeping lol_  
_well whenever you wake up just text back_  
_i really need to get out of the house for a bit so if youre free this week maybe we can get something to eat?_  
_no worries if you can’t tho lol_  
_see you whenever! ^_^_

 

Rasmus wakes up far later to a rainy sky that reminds him of Tim’s eyes - okay, that’s, like, new levels of disaster gay, so maybe he _does_ outdo Luka somehow - and the texts on his phone, somewhat worrying due to the hour they were sent at and to which he responds:

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Yeah! I’m free whenever you are_  
_We have the same scrim blocks I think so yeah!_  
_Whenever you wanna go just tell me and I can meet you there!_

 

This time, the reply is curiously quick.

 

 _From: Tim_ 💛  
_um_  
_would you wanna go now?_  
_or in like an hour or two_  
_?_  
_sometime today? since its an off day?_

 

 _To: Tim_ 💛  
_Sure!_

 

Rasmus is curious as to why so sudden of a meeting and also hella nervous as he is with everything involving Tim, but despite the gloomy weather outside he can’t help but feel a jumpy sort of happiness blooming in his heart.

 

“Morning,” says Mihael from his spot on the couch as Rasmus bounces into the room, watching what sounds like Code Geass on a laptop, curled up next to Luka and Marcin. Martin is playing duoQ with someone, probably Sencux, and grumbling about the weebs under his breath while the faint sounds of bell-like laughter answer him through his headset.

“Good morning,” responds Rasmus cheerily, bustling around the room to pick up his nicer jacket and gulping down orange juice. His happiness is apparently quite evident. Mihael seems to pick up on where Rasmus is going almost _too_ quickly.

“Have fun on your date,” Mihael continues nonchalantly.

Rasmus almost spits out his orange juice. Instead, he just chokes on it, trying not to spill the glass in his hand all over his fairly nice and vaguely-coordinated outfit for the day. “What-” _cough-_ “what are you-” _cough-_ “saying, Miky?” He breaks into more coughing.

“I’m saying, have a nice date with Tim.”

“It’s not a date!” Rasmus responds insistently.

“Keep telling yourself that,” retorts Mihael, and as soon as he bows out of the game of making fun of Rasmus, his lovers step right in to take his place.

 

“It’s probably going to rain,” Luka chips in, seeming helpful at first, “make sure to be a good boy and walk him home after."

“Use protection,” teases Marcin, only to be affectionately slapped lightly on the cheek by Mihael, and he yelps overexaggeratedly.

“Take an umbrella,” advises Mihael.

 

“Chres says he hopes you two have fun,” says Martin, relaying the message from his duoQ voice-comms, “and I say don’t listen to the weebs.” All of “the weebs” protest indignantly, while Rasmus just rolls his eyes.

 

He takes an umbrella when he steps out of the door.

 

When he gets there, Tim is already waiting, looking half-asleep as he sips from a coffee cup, probably drinking hot chocolate, if Rasmus remembers his tastes correctly. Rasmus takes his hand and they stand in line together to get something sweet for Tim and a coffee for Rasmus. Suddenly, Tim’s head dips down to rest on Rasmus’s shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?” asks Rasmus, putting a shy hand on Tim’s back for some added support as the other mid-laner leans on him.

“What?” says Tim, blinking hard as he rubs his eyes and stands back up. “Oh. Sorry. I guess the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet,” he softly chuckles.

 

Coffee? That's… weird. Tim told Rasmus that he didn’t like bitter things. Why is he drinking coffee?

 

They order a little muffin for each of them and Rasmus a coffee with plenty of cream, then they sit down in a corner of the coffeeshop where Tim can sit slumped at Rasmus’s side, and only then does Rasmus notice the dark circles under Tim’s eyes.

“So, ah, what did you get?” asks Rasmus.

“A latte,” says Tim. “It’s not what I would normally get, though.”

“Yeah, I thought you liked hot chocolate?” Rasmus says, slightly confused.

Tim sleepily mumbles into Rasmus’s shoulder, “Yes, I do, but I’m so tired… have to make it through the day somehow.”

“Not working out so well, huh?” giggles Rasmus nervously, the closeness driving him half-insane as he cautiously worms an arm around Tim to help hold him close - er, up. Hold him up.

 

Not close, or anything like that, he’s not- he’s not trying to make a move or anything, haha.

 

"Did you- were you- how late did you stay up last night?" asks Rasmus, finally, finally spitting out the question on his tongue.

"Didn't sleep," says Tim in a mumble into Rasmus's shoulder. "Couldn't sleep. Needed to play soloQ."

"Oh.”

That’s rather depressing.

“Well, you can talk to me if you want. If it happens again. Usually playing more League isn't the best way to get your mind off a loss…" Rasmus's words trail into a little awkward giggle the way they always seem to around Tim, particularly when there's no reply for a few seconds. "Or not," he continues, when the silence has become too much for his nerves to bear.

"I don't want to keep you up, too,” says Tim in carefully measured words.

"I'll be fine, I stay up a lot. And sleep pretty late," jokes Rasmus.

“If you’re sure it’s okay with you… then yes. I’ll call you if it happens again.” Tim’s eyes close contentedly, and Rasmus blushes a bit at how sweet Tim is with him. “Sorry if it troubles you.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m always here to help!” he chirps with another awkward, squeaky giggle. “Besides, it’s really not good for you to stay up so late! Er, I used to do that too, sometimes, and then I would get so distracted…” he begins, and he rambles a little to fill Tim’s sleepy silence. He’s well aware that he’s talking a little too much, but Tim does make contributions to their chatter - mostly quiet hums and the occasional comment, said in between sips of his latte and nibbles of his muffin.

 

Eventually, somewhere in Tim’s drowsy words and Rasmus’s anxious, jittery replies, the skies turn grey and the two mid-laners transition into watching cute animal videos on Rasmus’s phone, while time flies by until Tim glances at the clock in the corner of Rasmus’s screen and his eyes fly open. “Oh, shit, Youngbuck wanted to talk to us all just a few minutes ago.”

“O-oh!” exclaims Rasmus, almost dropping his phone in a nervous fumble. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

Tim tilts his head side to side as he thinks. Then, he agrees, mostly because he “doesn’t want to fall asleep on the way. It’s like the coffee didn’t even do anything,” he complains. Rasmus just laughs with a little creaky wheeze as Tim smiles, and they both stand up.

 

Rasmus is quite grateful for that umbrella because, while the cafe they decided on isn’t too far from either gaming house and it’s dry when they get there, it begins to rain when they leave and the umbrella not only protects them, but also gives them an excuse to stand in each other’s personal space. They walk in the rain a few blocks to Fnatic’s residence and Rasmus bids Tim farewell at the door. Tim, though, has other plans. Right as they say their “see you later”s and Rasmus waves goodbye, Tim surges forward and wraps the ever-so-slightly shorter mid-laner in a tight hug.

  
“Thank you,” he says, twig-thin arms squeezing Rasmus tight around the shoulders. “I just… really needed to get away for a bit. Thanks for going with me.” Rasmus hugs Tim back around the upper waist and does his best not to start vibrating with excitement.

“No problem,” Rasmus responds, “just text me again if you ever want to go somewhere. I’m always up for it!” He giggles awkwardly, shyly, as Tim loosens the hug but lets his hands linger on Rasmus’s shoulders.

“I will. See you in LEC?”

“Yeah! Talk to you later?”

“Yeah.”

 

They head their separate ways, then, Rasmus to the G2 house and Tim through the apartment complex’s corridors to reach his destination, both thinking rather deeply about the other and missing the presence of their constant walking-partner.

 

\---

 

The next week, they meet again. And again. And again.

 

And again and again and again under so many different circumstances until it’s basically just accepted as a thing now, that they meet up for coffee and sweets to chatter happily before scrims, after scrims, on off-days, sometimes even right before LEC starts. One of them will grab a coffee with lots of cream and a hot chocolate so they can enjoy some time together before matches. Rasmus is exceedingly, nervously happy, and with every win, Tim radiates more and more confidence.

 

Soon, the question is asked.

 

By Tim, of course.

 

Rasmus would love to ask Tim to be his boyfriend, would love to see a sweet, soft smile blossom across his face, would love to hear “Yes” in such a gentle voice… He would also probably die on the spot of nerves, so he waits for a long time, unsure of whether or not their coffee-dates even count as such until Tim jokes that Broxah is a little jealous of all their dates together.

 

Then, when Rasmus has walked Tim to Fnatic’s prep room and just before they head off to their respective teams to prepare for the game against each other, Tim grabs Rasmus’s hand.

“Yes?” giggles Rasmus awkwardly, smiling with a head-tilt.

“Hey,” responds Tim, stepping closer. Faintly, Rasmus can see Tim is tapping his feet on the floor and hear the soft pat-pat-pat of his shoes. “So… We’ve been on a lot of dates already…”

“Y-yeah?”

Tim now stands in front of Rasmus, holding both hands in his own, and Rasmus is blushing red. “And I really like you, a lot…”

“R-r-really?” stutters Rasmus almost in disbelief. No way. This is so unreal, why would such a pretty, cute, confident, amazing boy like Tim fall for a nervous wreck like Rasmus?

“Yes!” Tim chirps. “You’re so cute,” he says, swiping his thumbs across the backs of Rasmus’s hands, “if that wasn’t obvious.” His deep grey eyes are watching Rasmus with a fondness so overwhelming that Rasmus can’t help but break eye contact out of anxiety.

“T-thanks,” says Rasmus, “you’re… you’re amazing. Like… really pretty. And cute. And adorable.” He laughs with tiny squeaks scattered throughout. “I like you a lot, too.”

And then Tim giggles such a beautiful giggle, and Rasmus falls in love even more. “Great!” he says, squeezing Rasmus’s hands. “So, um, will you… would you want to be my boyfriend?”

Rasmus is so stunned, all he can do is nod for a few seconds. “Y-yes! Yes. Yes, I would love to be your boyfriend,” he grins, and Tim hugs him so tight. Both giggling, they embrace.

 

Tim’s arms feel so perfect wrapped around him, slightly scrawnier body pressed lightly against his own, sharp jaw resting on Rasmus’s shoulder, arms hugging Rasmus oh so close while Rasmus puts one arm around Tim’s waist and the other at the edge of his ribcage, and Rasmus honestly feels like he could stay there forever.

 

Then, Broxah comes out of the prep room and Tim has to go.

“See you in a bit!” says Tim as he waves goodbye. Right before the door closes, Tim rushes out to give Rasmus one last quick squeeze, and then Rasmus is off on his way back to the G2 prep room. Naturally, his teammates tease him about the unstoppable grin on his face and the bounce in his step, but nothing brings Rasmus down, not even the fact that his boyfriend’s team beats his, because honestly?

 

His _boyfriend_ ’s team?

 

A loss has never sounded so sweet.

 

\---

 

Rasmus is so thrilled to watch Fnatic rise, to watch Tim fly through the ranks and prove himself, even making it to Semis, where the G2 mid-laner is on the edge of his seat at every single play of the game. He’s begging OG to fall over dead just so Tim can make it one step further. Sure, Rasmus won’t be giving up a title for his boyfriend, but please, don’t let their journey end at semis! Don’t let Tim’s journey end at third! Let him be second, _please!_

But his prayers are useless.

Fnatic are so close to the reverse sweep, and then they lose, 3-1.

 

As soon as he knows it’s over, Rasmus excuses himself from G2’s little viewing party to stand in the hall and call Tim, who understandably doesn’t answer - his phone probably is still waiting with the rest of them, confiscated while the players are on-stage - but Youngbuck picks up.

 

“Caps?” he asks into the phone’s receiver.

“Oh, hey, Youngbuck.”

“Should I ask why your name has hearts around it in Tim’s phone?”

Shit. Rasmus stutters for a bit before finally spitting out, “probably not. Hey,” he continues, “whenever you all get back to your house, can you tell Tim to call me?”

When there isn’t a reply, Rasmus jabbers on.

“Or text me? Just let me know when he’s available?”

Youngbuck sighs deeply after a moment of thought. “Yeah, I can do that. Treat him well, though,” he warns. “You know how most of us get after a loss. Treat him well.”

“I will,” promises Rasmus with a quick breath of relief.

“I’ll let him know, but if he doesn’t call you by 10:30, you’ll want to call him yourself.”

“Ah. Thank you.”

“No problem,” says Youngbuck, before hanging up.

 

Rasmus is pacing behind the computers back at G2’s gaming house, Mihael gently teasing him for “wearing a hole in the floor,” when finally it’s 10:00 and Rasmus can’t wait any longer. He calls Tim.

It rings for a minute before Tim picks up, sounding pained beyond belief and voice rough with something Rasmus can’t place. Sleep? Screaming? Tears?

He hopes it’s not the last two.

 

“Rasmus?”

“Hey!” Rasmus chirps, dashing into his room for some privacy. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty awful,” Tim responds bluntly.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” says Rasmus, laughing awkwardly and cursing himself for his mistake. But Tim tells him that it’s okay, so Rasmus continues. “Hey, would you, ah, like to go on a date on Monday?”

“Sure.” Tim’s voice is still so bland and emotionless, something Rasmus has only seen in Fnatic’s videos, a side of Tim that has never been pushed at Rasmus, and he’s starting to become rather worried. He pulls on his jacket and then goes to get his shoes.

“Should we try that Indian place Rekkles recommended to you? Or just coffee?” Rasmus is well-aware that he’s rambling, but for now he puts his nervous skills to good use, keeping Tim on the phone while he lets Luka know that he’s going to the Fnatic house.

 

“Don’t get kidnapped,” says Luka, pulling at Rasmus’s cheek, but he’s sent off with a blessing.

“Tim likes your hugs.” Mihael is gathered up in Marcin’s arms, but that certainly doesn’t stop him from chiming in.

“Use protection,” advises Marcin again, receiving another playful slap for his words.

 

“I don’t know,” mumbles Tim. “We can figure that out on Monday.”

Rasmus heads out of the door and keeps amiably chatting with his boyfriend. “Okay! I think we should try the Indian place but if you don’t feel up to it on Monday that’s cool too. Hey, I saw a really cute wolf video on Twitter yesterday! It reminded me of you,” he rambles on, sending links as he walks. He doesn’t stop talking until there’s a sudden shout from Tim’s side of the line. “Hey, is everything all right?”

“Y-yeah,” says Tim with a sniffle. “It’s f-fine.”

Oh no. “Was that Rekkles?”

Another soft sniffle. “Yes.” Tim’s voice sounds choked with tears. “It’s fine.”

Oh, dear God, no. “Hey, he’s not drunk again, is he?”

 

Rasmus remembers how, after a rough loss, Martin - well, Rekkles, now, to Rasmus at least - would always get shitfaced drunk and stumble back to the gaming house spewing toxicity, a danger to himself, sometimes even going so far as to dip his toes into violence. Eventually, though, as time went on and Rekkles got used to the Fnatic members around him, he would chug liquor under Rasmus or Broxah’s supervision. After a while longer, they were able to reform him enough that Rekkles didn’t use alcohol as a crutch.

By the yell that comes through the phone line, that may have been reversed.

 

“Again?” questions Tim. “He did this when you were around, too?”

“Yeah. Has he gotten worse this Split?”

Tim’s long silence confirms it, but the FNC mid tries to deny it for some reason. “No. He’s fine.”

Warning bells begin to ring in Rasmus’s mind. Towards the beginning of his introduction to Rekkles’s drunken rants, he and Broxah would occasionally be the subjects of it, never good enough to measure up to Reignover and Febiven, though Rekkles warmed up as the Splits continued on. Right now, Rasmus is hoping against hope that Rekkles hasn’t devolved into screaming mocking fury at his teammates. “Oh. How do you know about it, then?” he probes. “Did Broxah tell you?” Rasmus may be a nervous wreck, but he’s still rather intelligent, and knows that if he gives Tim an excuse for the lie - and Tim takes it - then the lie is virtually proven to exist.

Tim takes it. “Yeah,” he answers, far too quickly, “Mads told me.”

 

There is another shout, and Tim chokes out a sob.

 

“Shit, Tim, are you crying?” asks Rasmus.

“No,” cries Tim, “I’m fine, don’t worry…”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to, I don’t want to be a bother, it’s fine,” says Tim, blathering on.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” says Rasmus, “that was a dumb question.”

He rings the bell to the apartment complex and dials for Fnatic on the apartment intercom.

“Uhm, here’s a better one - could you let me in?” Rasmus asks, and Tim breaks into full-on sobs.

“Yes,” he answers, sounding much more relieved, and all the doors unlock for Rasmus.

 

When he makes it to Fnatic’s door, Rasmus is surprised to see it fly open as Tim hurriedly draws him into the entryway and hugs him close. Rasmus hushes him gently, soothes his quiet tears as he leaves his shoes at the door and leads them to the player rooms, where Tim pulls them into his own room and immediately tugs Rasmus over to the bed. Tim sits down and Rasmus sits at his side, taking off his jacket. Before Rasmus has a chance to arrange it neatly on Tim’s desk, Tim is tackling him to the bed and hugging him close, and Rasmus’s arms lock around the shaking, crying mid-laner almost involuntarily.

“Oh, _medu_ ,” says Rasmus, trying out a pet name that Mihael always uses on Luka in soft moments, “why are you crying? You did so well,” he soothes, “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Tim responds through gasping, heaving breaths. “I’m not good eno-ough.”

“Don’t think like that, Tim, you’re more than enough.”

“No I’m-m not!” protests Tim. “That’s n-n-not what they think!” His tears are staining Rasmus’s shirt with a growing dark spot on the shoulder, but Rasmus doesn’t mind at all.

He’s much more concerned about whoever has been criticising his boyfriend so badly. “Who thinks that? Who’s been telling you that you’re not good enough?” says Rasmus, anger growing even more rapidly than the wet spot on his shoulder. He dreads the answer.

“M-M-M-M-” stutters Tim, almost crying too hard to say it, but Rasmus learns it soon enough.

 

“THIS WOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING HAPPENED IF RASMUS WERE STILL HERE!”

 

Martin.

 

His voice echoes throughout the house, quickly followed by scolding tones from a deeper rumble - Broxah - and more shouting from Rekkles, though Rasmus is too preoccupied with a sudden wave of new tears from Tim to pay attention to the insults.

“Don’t listen to him,” says Rasmus, internally wracking his brain for solutions to the problem of Martin “Rekkles” Larsson. “He shouldn’t be blaming you, it’s not your fault.”

“But what if it is?!” wails Tim, desperately clutching at Rasmus’s shoulder. “What if it is my fault?!”

“It’s _not_ ,” says Rasmus, even more firmly. “League of Legends is a team game. Win as a team. Lose as a team. _Never_ as an individual.”

 

The shouting from the kitchen area grows louder, to a fever pitch even though it’s still indistinguishable, and then- silence.

 

Hm. Perhaps Broxah has done the impossible - figuring out where Rekkles’s off-switch is.

 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that.” Rasmus runs his hands up Tim’s back to lace lightly with his fluffy hair, at the nape of his neck, while Rasmus kisses his forehead softly. “He shouldn’t be saying things like that. You shouldn’t have to listen to that.”

Tim just sniffles, tears running down his face, and Rasmus does his best to pat them dry with his shirt-sleeves.

“Do you want to go to the G2 house instead?” offers Rasmus. Tim nods his head quickly, slim hands holding Rasmus’s at the wrist. “All right,” Rasmus chuckles, and he sits them both up, still holding Tim near. “You should probably get a jacket. It’s a bit cold,” he warns.

“Can I take yours?”

Rasmus blushes. “Y-yeah, if I can take one of yours,” he says, eyes dodging to the side, slightly overwhelmed by the cuteness of his boyfriend in his jacket, and Tim hands him a Fnatic-emblazoned jacket. “Reminds me of the good old days,” he teases, and he’s rewarded with a soft laugh through hiccuping breaths.

 

Though the mid-lane duo were able to sneak by the terrible two on the way in, they’re not nearly so lucky now, and as Rasmus and Tim walk hand in hand to the door, they’re spotted out by Rekkles.

Broxah, the poor jungler, is having his arms and chest squeezed and rubbed, felt up by Rekkles who is sitting on the counter, clearly drunk by the way he sways and clings to Broxah for support. “But I don’t _want_ to drink waterrrrrr,” he whines, “I already had enough to drink!”

“Yeah, alcohol,” grumbles Broxah. He tries to reason with the ADC to no avail, and as they’re caught in conversation Tim and Rasmus try to sneak by, but Rekkles’s head flops against Broxah’s shoulder and he sees them.

 

“Rasmus?”

Shit.

“Oh, Rasmus, I knew you would come back!” Rekkles cheers. He moves as though he’s trying to run to Rasmus, but in his drunken stupor, he’s barely able to get off the countertop without falling over, and Broxah hooks a strong arm around his waist, hauling him back onto the kitchen counter and making sure to hold him there.

Rekkles whines, but Broxah murmurs quietly, “He’s not the Caps you knew,” and Rekkles seems to listen to his words. At the very least, he’s paying attention to what Broxah says.

Of course, the ADC still wriggles and squirms, trying to break free, so maybe he’s hearing more than heeding, but Broxah’s strength is fairly immovable, and Tim pulls Rasmus along quickly, meaning he only catches a brief glimpse of Broxah whispering something into Rekkles’s ear that makes him instantly obey before the two tiny mid-laners are out of the door and on their way to the G2 house.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” says Tim apologetically, shamefully, still sniffling and rubbing at his eyes.

“Don’t be,” responds Rasmus, gently squeezing Tim’s wrist, “Rekkles’s problems aren’t your fault,” and soon enough they arrive at G2’s door, side by side, hand in hand.

 

\---

 

Back at the G2 gaming house, things are much quieter and gentler. There are no screams of anger, no deep, rough voice trying to soothe the screeches; instead, Mihael and Luka’s voices, though they can be rather shrill at times, meld together to soothe Tim and tease both of the mid-lane boyfriends, in Slovenian and in English. Martin is noticeably absent from the gaming room, probably holed up in his own bed FaceTiming Chres. Marcin, though, is present, peacefully watching his own two sweethearts be literal sweethearts for once in their lives as Mihael cracks jokes to stop Tim’s faint crying and Luka follows along from his spot curled up against Marcin’s side.

 

It does get a little awkward, eventually, when Luka’s little kisses to Marcin’s cheek turn into a full-on makeout that they’re at least decent enough to take to Mihael’s room, but as the threesome file out, Luka in Marcin’s arms and Mihael right beside them, Rasmus and Tim settle down in Rasmus’s room, hugging each other tightly.

 

Rasmus is jittery and nervous as ever, giggling softly at everything they talk about. And they talk about everything and nothing all at once, jumping from topic to topic as they please while their hands trace patterns into each other's backs, chattering tips for playing Zoe and random ways to kick ass in soloQ, over the merits of wolves and things they miss from home, their next date - the zoo, perhaps, instead of just lunch on Monday - and the new adventures they want to have together in the few days of offseason they'll have with each other. Tim mentions his aspirations of beating Rasmus in lane, and they set up a 1v1 challenge for the next morning.

But Tim also says, so softly, gentle and almost heartbroken, that he wished he could have made it to see Rasmus across from him on that Rotterdam stage, and Rasmus breathes a loving sigh as he kisses Tim's forehead again.

 

Right then and there, as they lie in Rasmus's bed, arms and legs tangled and sharing the same breaths, Rasmus makes a promise.

 

“We’ll beat OG,” he says, and Tim smiles at him. “We’re gonna 3-0 them, and I’m going to win it for you.”

 

The next day, he wakes up to Tim's pretty, pretty smile, and a sleep-roughened voice murmuring, "remember what you promised me?"

"Of course," says Rasmus. "I'll do it!" His eyes sparkle in the morning light, and Tim hugs him close again.

 

Later, Rasmus goes out on stage. He waves to the audience. He listens while Luka gives them a hype talk. He smiles widest when he sees Tim sitting next to Chres, eagerly awaiting their games, and Tim blushes pink when Rasmus winks at him.

Even in the heat of competition, Rasmus hasn't forgotten his promise to Tim.

 

He loads onto the Rift, and he follows through.


End file.
